Haiku:
like the blues –
easy; impossible.
Where is he now,
cy’cling around?
Moving metal-music.
TUMP
pprrr… pprrrrr….
tap
Imagine
comprehending
how far away the sun is…
How do you
spell
the smell of the bark of a tree?
Th’only rule
(really) is: it simply has
to feel like one.
The un-sovereign ant
explores my t-shirt landscape.
A whistle through the airwaves.
Haiku.
Only haiku.
Lots of haiku.
The wind is
alive
and I can’t write it.
Poe
eh
tree.
Pough
e
treigh.
Poh
ea
trea.
Stewpid
bludee
langwij!
william altoft 